


The Second Apprentice

by Amailia



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Adventure, Apprentice - Freeform, Defiant Jedi, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Humor, Jedi, Jedi Council - Freeform, Jedi Temple, Knights - Freeform, Master/Padawan, Padawan, Qui-Gon Jinn - Freeform, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-05-16 20:59:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5840785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amailia/pseuds/Amailia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Episode I, Qui-Gon's twenty-year-old daughter, Ava, is taken on as an interim Padawan by Obi-Wan Kenobi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They’d taken everything from her for the last time.

Ava stood at the steps to Pad 42A, the only off-world transport landing pad in Quadrant P-98. The noises of Coruscant buzzed all around her: speeding transports, proprietors spouting announcements of their merchandise and, this far away from the city center, plenty of miscreants winding their way through the crowds, hawking their drugs and illegal wares. The smell assaulted her senses. In this area of the city, basically everywhere was "down wind" of the garbage pits.

She wouldn’t miss any of it.

“Are you kidding me with this?” His low voice grumbled behind her.

She let out a resounding sigh. She recognized that tone. It was his annoyed voice, like she was being a petulant child. She was only five years his junior, where did he get off acting like some kind of entitled progenitor? Just because he was a Knight now, with some “Chosen One” Padawan? As children, he’d always treated her like an equal. She didn’t know when the dynamic had changed.

“How did you even know I was here?” She did not turn to face him, but crossed her arms to declare her annoyance. She’d taken three taxis, two mass-transit shuttles and traveled six districts away from the city center for the sole purpose of avoiding this exact confrontation. “You have people watching me?”

“People? You act like I’m some kind of spy master.”

“I don’t know what you are anymore,” she said callously.

“I don’t need this right now,” he growled. “We need to go back. Now.”

“How many times have I tried to give this up? This is it, just let me leave this time,” she insisted.

“I know what you’re feeling—”

“ _You know what I’m feeling_?” She knew her tone was full of cruel skepticism, and was probably unfair.

“I lost a father too,” he said harshly.

Her heart raced. She hated fighting with him, she hated when he tried to control what she did, and she hated that he was there in her father’s last days and she wasn’t. She didn’t blame him, she wasn’t delusional. But if she would have been there too - if they both could have been there to protect him - maybe he’d still be alive. She and Obi-Wan had always made a good team. In battle, at least.

“You think Qui-Gon would have wanted this for you?” he scoffed. “For you to just run away? You need to come back with me before someone notices you’re gone. How do you plan to explain this to Syrna, or the Council, if they discover you’ve left the Temple?”

“Syrna is dead,” she said flatly.

That shut him up. Good.

He stepped forward slowly until he was standing next to her, his hood drawn up to obscure his face.

“What are you talking about?” he whispered.

She couldn’t turn to look at him. She knew what expression awaited her. He’d be so sympathetic, so compassionate, so understanding. It’d make her sick.

“This is strike three, Ben,” she said, unable to stop her voice from wavering.

“Don’t call me that,” he warned. He had never liked her childhood nickname for him. Good natured Obi-Wan - always so tranquil, always so _benevolent_. It was utter crap, obviously. He was just as stubborn, petulant, and stormy as she was. He was just better at hiding it from everyone else.

“Sorry, _Master Obi-Wan_ ,” she grumbled. “My mother, my father and now my master. I’m over it. Spira is supposed to be nice this time of year.”

“Stop joking around, Ava,” he said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. An tear escaped from the corner of her eye and blazed a hot trail down her cheek. She ignored it, letting it run down off jaw and onto the ground.

“It’s ok to grieve,” he said, seeming surprised by her display of emotion, however small. If how she’d acted after losing her parents had been any indication, he probably assumed she wasn’t capable of crying. “I had no idea. Does the Council even know?”

“I left Master Adi a message on her comm.”

“Please tell me you’re joking,” he said, though by his tone he already knew she wasn’t.

“I know it’s not _regulation_. But then they’d want to talk, which means interrogate; then they’d want an account of it, which means reports.” She finally looked up to meet his eye. His brow was furled, his ice blue eyes pained. He’d started to grow a beard, apparently. “She was my Master,” she continued in a dangerous tone. “She was my _friend_. She was all I had left. They’ll want to turn it into paperwork.”

“She’s not all you have left,” he said quietly.

She felt a lump form in her throat. How did he always manage to simultaneously comfort and infuriate her?

“I can’t do it again, I can’t have to train under another master,” she growled. She wasn’t giving up on getting on this ship and high-tailing it out of the Galactic Center. She could keep her old friend talking for long enough for the transport to show up, and after that he wouldn’t have enough guts to start a physical altercation in the middle of a busy landing pad.

“I know it’ll be difficult, but you’re not old enough to be a Knight.”

“Neither are you,” she said flatly.

“It’ll only be a few years. They’ll select someone great for you to train under. You’ll be better off for it, more well-rounded.”

She turned and leveled a glare at him, “You think that’s what I want? To be _more well-rounded_?”

“That’s not what I meant…” he said. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“All I want is Syrna back. But I hear death’s still pretty permanent these days. She understood me, at least. She got me better than Father ever did, that’s for certain.”

“You were both too stubborn for your own good,” he said. “It’s going to get you killed.”

“If it’s so inevitable, then just let me go. Let me self-destruct somewhere on my own, where the Council can’t poke and prod me back into submission.” She felt like she was pleading with a captor to please just go ahead and kill her instead of submitting her to more torture.

“It’s only been a few months since we lost Qui-Gon. I can’t believe Syrna was taken from you too.” His voice dripped with sympathy and regret, and she didn’t want any of it. “I get it, Ava, I do. Give me some credit. You’re afraid you’re going to get close to another master, then lose them as well.”

“And we all know what fear leads to,” she said dryly, turning back to face the landing pad.

Where did he get off acting like he knew her motivations inside and out? He hadn’t spoken with her in months before her father’s death, and had been pulling slowly away from their friendship for years before that.

“What if I ask the Council to let me train you during the interim? You can take your time to grieve your father and Syrna… and when you’re ready, you can transition to a new master.”

She was quiet for a long time, focusing on the shrill, waning engines as endless shuttles rushed by above them. Was he being serious? The suggestion was so _reasonable_ … she could hardly believe he’d been the one to utter it.

His tone shifted from authoritative wisdom to desperate petition. “I just want you back at the Temple, where you’re safe. You think I could sleep at night if I knew you were out in the galaxy somewhere getting yourself killed? And your father would never forgive me.”

“You’re so certain of my demise?” she asked. This “older brother knows what’s best” act was getting old.

“You’re angry, you’re upset, you’re tired… which makes you dangerous. You feel betrayed by the Order because you keep losing the people you love. I understand that, I really do. But when you’ve lost someone, you need to grieve them and move past it, and the best place to do that is at the Temple, surrounded by the people who care about you. Running away from your duties as a Jedi won’t accomplish anything good.”

She knew her training. She knew these feelings of loss were exactly why the Order forbid emotional attachment, romantic or otherwise. As if stopping people from caring about one another was as easy as claiming it to be a rule.

She’d always thought that to be a special degree of hypocritical, because in the same breath they turned around and paired you, as a very young child, with a skilled mentor who you’re to spend every day with from then on until one of you dies. You never really had a chance to _not_ get attached, to _not_ see them as a parent. She couldn’t speak for the other species… but it was just human nature.

Without knowing she’d given up, she realized she was following Obi-Wan as he led her away from the landing pad, back down the street toward the taxi stand. His cloak billowed out behind him as he marched down the street, the mass of bodies, carts and animals giving way in front of him, clearing a path like a knife through butter.

When had he become such a commanding presence?

Ava dragged her feet as she followed, then finally uncrossed her arms, making a mental note that if she wanted to stop being treated like a child… she’d need to stop acting like one.


	2. Chapter 2

Sure, she’d promised herself she would try and act more like an adult, like the Jedi Knight she was supposed to become one day. So while she idly swung the training saber at the untrained pilot, letting him parry a few of her swings before striking him in the arm for the dozenth time, she searched for a way to justify her current actions.

She’d arrived a few minutes early to the hangar she was supposed to meet Obi-Wan in. The pilot had been waiting with a stiff back and an entirely too euphoric smile on his face, like he was about to leave on an epic, galaxy-spanning adventure and he’d just won a million credits. They introduced themselves and she was instantly bored.

They’d sat in awkward silence for a few long minutes as she thought about how arduous the last week had been. She’d been cooped up in her new room in the quarters she now shared with Obi-Wan and Anakin. The Council had reluctantly agreed to Obi-Wan’s appeal, though they stressed the arrangement’s provisional nature. She knew why they did it - they pitied her and that sickened her, but she didn’t have the energy to feel anything beyond her grief.

Her master’s funeral was easier than she’d expected it to be, partly because funerals were such a commonplace occurrence in her life. But mostly because her sadness was overcome by her annoyance at how everyone treated her. She didn’t want their pity.

But if it allowed her to stay with Obi-Wan instead of going up for auction as a Padawan, she’d take it. Who wanted a stubborn, damaged, twenty-year-old apprentice, anyway? She was a handful right now, and she knew it. She was already with the only one of them that had a chance at being able to deal with her.

She’d been given no tasks by her new master, other than a repeated suggestion to meditate, reflect and let the Force heal her grieving soul. Unfortunately, the Force seemed wholly disinterested in assisting. So after a week of sitting cross-legged and staring at the walls, she’d actually been quite excited to learn that the Council had a mission for them off-planet. She and Syrna had spent almost all their time away from Coruscant the last few years, so she wasn’t used to the daily drudgery of life at the Temple.

Then the pilot had broken their silence, leaning toward her to ask about the pair of training sabers she had tucked into her belt. He apparently thought she had three different lightsabers. She’d brought them so she could spend some time practicing with Anakin on the journey, if Obi-Wan allowed it. Without really thinking about what she was doing, she pulled them off her belt and offered one out to him. She’d always felt demonstration was the most effective form of instruction.

Offering to spar with a random civilian could be construed as childish, and was certainly forbidden, but she liked to see it as generous. If he would stop dropping his guard every few seconds, or flailing around wildly with the sword like it was some kind of disgusting fifth appendage that had sprung up out of his hand, he might actually be able to learn a few things. Unfortunately, he was mostly just getting burnt and bruised a lot. Despite the number of marks that now scorched the sides of his arms, he had yet to become frustrated. The pain only seemed to encourage him to focus harder.

The man was young, with light blonde hair that he’d trimmed short on the sides, but left long enough on top that it swung across his forehead and into his eyes with every motion. He was starting to grow a beard, but it was patchy and a little sad, whether due to youth or just genetics, she wasn’t sure.

Though she herself wouldn’t be considered short by any standards, he stood a head taller even than she and was wrapped with muscle that put him at least twenty kilograms heavier. His skin was on the dark side considering the lightness of his hair, and she couldn’t tell what color his eyes were as she smacked his arm with the training saber again. He grimaced, but it seemed to be more annoyance at his mistake than because of any kind of pain the light burn might have caused.

Of course, if she’d bothered to access the Force, besting him would have been an absurdly simple task. It proved to be a pretty simple task anyways, as he’d clearly never received any kind of formal combat training. He did have good instincts however, and she was entertained by the scrappy approach he took to the fight. He’d thrown no less than five random items at her since they began, including his own blaster from the holster on his thigh, and was constantly on the prowl for cover, despite it being a physical altercation and not some kind of shoot-out.

This seemed to be working a whole lot better than Obi-Wan’s suggestion of meditation and reflection. She’d felt a whole host of positive emotions since the fight began, ranging from amusement to enthusiasm to fulfillment… maybe even fun?

The pilot surprised her by charging forward suddenly, apparently planning to tackle her into the console that stood behind her. She recognized it as a teachable moment, so instead of thwacking him with her blade before he could get within arm’s reach, she simply widened her stance and prepared for impact. She shoved her braced forearm hard into the hollow of his rib-cage as he approached, then pushed back against his center of gravity. He appeared quite shocked by how easy it was for her to switch the momentum and shove him with relative ease three meters into the stack of crates behind him.

She slid her arm up to his neck to pin him in place, careful not to actually injure him as she smiled conceitedly up at him. He returned her look with a grin that seemed equal parts impressed and scared. She was about to declare her victory when she saw him out of the corner of her eye, brown cloak falling out around him dramatically as he came to a stop a few meters away.

“Ava,” Obi-Wan said. She was impressed at how admonishing he was able to make a single two-syllable word sound. “Care to explain why you seem to be brawling with some random… gentleman?”

“He’s not random, he’s Support.” She stepped away from the man and gestured toward the freighter.

“Really?” Obi-Wan said flatly. He wasn’t questioning that the man was Support, but instead vocalizing his utter incredulity at the activity she’d decided to take up with Support. The fact that Obi-Wan was still surprised by the things she did was the truly surprising part.

“It’s a good thing he’s a pilot, because he’s not great with a sword,” she said, earning her an incredulous grin from the civilian as he wiped sweat from his brow and peeled himself away from the crates. “Obi— … _Master_ Obi-Wan, this is…” she pressed her lips together as she searched her memory, then announced, “Nope, I don’t remember your name.”

“Lamrick,” he said with a grin, turning to address Obi-Wan. His smile faded as he met the knight’s deadpan gaze. He elaborated more seriously as he nervously straightened his jacket. “Caliborn Lamrick, sir. Smuggl—“ He grit his teeth, then added lightly, “… _pilot_.”

The slip was obvious, but covering it was a formality. They knew what he really was, and he knew they knew. The Council knew when they arranged it, in fact, it was more than likely the exact reason he’d been selected for the task. They needed access to a system on the Outer Rim that was heavily regulated by a powerful gang. A smuggler like Lamrick, who may not be entirely on the up-and-up, could easily provide the discreet access they needed without having to broadcast their presence to everyone in the system by rolling up in a Jedi cruiser.

According to the brief history she’d dug up on the pilot in the Archives yesterday, he’d already had his “check ride”, which basically meant he’d worked for the Order without knowing it, and in some fashion, acted commendably. This earned him the Council’s heavily tempered trust to assist with this more sensitive mission. What was in it for him? Loads and loads of credits, which both bought silence and acted as compensation for the life-threatening situations he’d most likely be placed in.

The research had also told her he was twenty-three years old, one of six children born to two miners on a Mid Rim planet. Gang warfare over the last few decades had ravaged the system, and in a skirmish a few years ago, his father had been gravely injured, rendering him unable to continue working. His mother continued to work and tend to his father and younger siblings, while Lamrick, as the eldest child, though only nineteen at the time, left the planet in search of a more lucrative line of work.

According to the Jedi Discerner that had studied his profile, they felt his motivations for earning credits illegally were familial in nature and not driven by greed or survival. This made him, in their eyes, less of a threat than the other “types” of smugglers or general miscreants on their list. Also, he was allergic to bantha meat.

She might be rash, stubborn and moody, but she never showed up unprepared. She could remember all of that, and yet… she’d had trouble remembering his name. She really was out of it these days.

She’d assembled all that information into one conclusion - Lamrick more than likely wanted to move up in the ranks of “potentially trustworthy secret Jedi Order associates”, more commonly known as Support. So, he’d probably try to impress them. That could either be dangerous or useful, or some of both. Either way, she made a mental note to keep a close eye on him.

“Master Obi-Wan, sir, pleasure to meet you,” Lamrick said with the kind of smug grin that actually seemed genuine. A smugness born of calculated confidence, something that was simply a factor of his presence, not a threat or attempt at insult.

He offered his hand out toward Obi-Wan, who assessed it with raised eyebrows before accepting the firm handshake with a sigh. “When can we be ready to leave?” Obi-Wan asked, and though technically a question, it had come out much more of a demand.

“Engines hot in five, sir,” Lamrick announced, dashing toward the open boarding ramp, only stopping to pick up his previously discarded blaster off the ground before disappearing into the ship.

“If that kid calls me sir one more time, I’m going to punch him,” Obi-Wan said. Ava couldn’t help but grin. _That’s_ the Obi-Wan she used to know.

“You might as well get used to that, you’re a Knight now.” She followed Obi-Wan as he turned to climb up into the freighter.

“Yeah… that’s what everyone keeps saying.”

“Wait, Ben, is this your first solo mission?” she asked excitedly as they turned the corner into the central common area of the ship.

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbled. She sat down on a cushioned bench that stood against the far wall. What looked like newly installed seatbelts were attached behind the seats, and clean helmets were lined up neatly underneath the bench. She could honestly say she’d never seen a Support candidate bother to supply them with any kind of protective gear. She was also struck by how clean and tidy the ship was. This guy seemed really organized.

“Are you nervous?” she asked.

“You seem to be in a much better mood,” he said sternly, sitting down next to her.

“And you seem your chipper self as well.”

He said nothing.

“Where’s Ani?” she asked.

“He’s not ready for this,” he explained distantly, “He’ll study with Master Adi while we’re gone.”

“I’m surprised the Council allowed me to come.”

“Me too,” he replied. Ouch… Despondent, disappointed Obi-Wan was turning out to not be much fun.

“I know you think I need to relax and meditate and study,” she said, “But I’m not sure that’s the best way for me to handle this. Getting out there and making a difference, actually doing something… that’s going to help put my mind at ease.”

He looked up to meet her eyes, and though dejected and a bit apathetic, the expression actually said a lot more. Something like _you’re probably right, but I don’t know what to tell you because I just don’t know what I’m doing_.

Small patches of fine lines sat below his bloodshot eyes, ringed with dark circles. He was too young for those kind of wrinkles. He just looked… tired. Like he hadn’t slept in months. His soft brown hair was getting longer, and was rumpled as if he hadn’t washed it recently. The longer it got, the more auburn it looked, more like her own. She may have got her stubborn streak from her father, but her looks came from her mother.

“You’re growing your hair out?” she asked quietly. It took a minute, and it wasn’t what she would call an _outward_ smile… but she felt the change in him. The floor beneath them vibrated as the engines roared to life. She leaned back casually in her seat. “I’m just saying, one of my earliest memories is you complaining about your hair being too long.”

He rolled his eyes. “Let’s not exaggerate.”

“You had it trimmed every week,” she reminded him.

“It was just practical,” he explained.

“And how much grief did you give Qui-Gon about his hair?”

“It was unruly, I don’t know how he dealt with it.” He combed a hand through his lengthened, but by all standards still short, hair. He ran his hand back and forth across the top of it until it stuck up every which way, as if the mere mention of it reminded him of the irritation it used to cause.

They apparently shared a concurrent recollection as they quoted her father, practically in unison, “If one so strong in the Force can be so easily harassed by their own hair… then all is truly lost.”

She burst out laughing and he _finally_ let himself smile. She’d take it. She would beat her best friend back out of him if it was the last thing she did.


	3. Chapter 3

It only took a few minutes to get the clearance they needed to exit the atmosphere, and they were now cruising slowly away from Coruscant awaiting permission to enter hyperspace. Lamrick had politely insisted they buckle up, and after exchanging a dubious look with Obi-Wan, they’d sat back and strapped themselves into the harness-style seatbelts. She wasn’t sure she’d ever actually buckled herself into a starship before, at least while out of atmo.

The ship was an old Corellian YT-series that had been heavily modified to accommodate extra cargo space for smuggled goods. It was actually kind of genius.

It was an old ship that had loads of space dedicated to an outdated and cumbersome hyperdrive system, but had been retrofitted with a sleek, new, tiny one. All that extra space had been sequestered behind matching wall panels, and unless you knew the specifics of how the ship was laid out, you would never notice the missing space.

She would also guess that the sleeping quarters were all just a few feet smaller than any blueprints of the ship would suggest. It would have taken a great deal of effort to get it this way, but it was a lot safer and smarter than the old standby of hiding cargo under the floor panels. She also hoped the ship had been modded for speed and maneuverability, as the YTs were notoriously slow beasts in their stock configuration.

“Are you ever going to tell me what this mission is?” she asked Obi-Wan as she loosened the straps some on her seatbelt. She was feeling very confined.

“I’m surprised you didn’t just hack it out of the Archives,” he said, “I assumed that’s why you went yesterday.”

She grinned. He knew her so well. “That was the plan, but you know how it is these days. Redacted, redacted, redacted. It was just a whole page of blackness, interspersed with the words ‘Kenobi’, ‘delicate’ and ‘sensitive in nature’.” She let the phrases sink in before adding flippantly, “So, all just different ways of talking about you.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Instead I stalked fly-boy over there,” she said.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, eyeing Lamrick as he sat in the cockpit, only a sliver visible from their vantage point in the common area. The pilot pulled a clipboard down off the wall and started writing notes on it as he methodically pushed and switched various controls on the console. Did he seriously have a checklist?

“Four out of five gold stars,” she said.

“They don’t actually have a rating system?” he asked with disbelief.

“I wish, it’d be easier than having to read through all those pages of Jedi Discerner nonsense,” she said. “Anyways, all that redacted blackness doesn’t really scream simple peacekeeping mission. What are we up to?”

“You know how it is Ava, I tell you what you need to know when you need to know it,” he said with that new authoritative tone she was quickly learning to hate.

"That's…" and she wanted to say bantha fodder, but instead she sighed and said, " _…just fine._ "

“We’re recovering a holocron,” he said casually.

"Excuse me?"

"I just wanted to see if you'd actually heed me for once.”

"You're…" She sighed. Again she wanted to say bantha fodder.

The ship suddenly lurched and she was thankful for the seatbelt, as she was pretty sure she would have slid right off the bench if she hadn’t been strapped in. There was nothing charming about a Jedi being bested by a reeling ship, they were supposed to be the most graceful beings in the Universe, after all. No one would have seen other than Obi-Wan… but the Obi-Wan she used to know, at least, would have never let her live it down.

“Sorry sir, ma’am,” Lamrick called back from the cockpit, “She’s still a little rough when entering and leaving hyperspace. I’m working on it.”

 _Ma’am?_ That would never do.

She started to pull at the releases on her seatbelt so she could get up and inform Lamrick of exactly how at-risk his life was if he kept calling her ma’am. The ship lurched again and she felt the familiar, unsettling stir in the pit of her stomach that indicated they’d fully entered hyperspace.

“Give the kid a break,” Obi-Wan said, sensing her ire. She relented, but released herself from the constraints anyway. Lamrick appeared from the cockpit, cheeks flushed with a nervous, forced smile.

“The jump will take about three hours,” he announced. “We’ll need to swing around and approach the system manually to not draw attention - they keep a close eye on routes in and out of the galactic center.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Obi-Wan said. Lamrick’s posture seemed to straighten with the use of the title and he gave a deferential nod as he all but puffed out his chest and headed back into the cockpit.

“Who’s the copilot?” she asked.

Obi-Wan released his seatbelt, but made no indication toward getting up. “I don’t know, you’re the one who stalked him.”

“I didn’t _stalk_ him,” she replied haughtily.

He said nothing for a long time, then quietly said, “You kind of did.”

She stood up, crossed her arms, leveled one of her best glares at him, then marched toward the cockpit.

Never in her life had she seen a flight deck like this before. She imagined it was exactly how one might look as it came off the assembly line… except cleaner. But clean didn’t begin to describe it.

Not only was every inch of the console shining and unsullied, but each control was meticulously labeled. Every light worked, every handle matched, and every gauge was clearly marked and easy to read, all of which, for a ship of this age, was unheard of.

A half dozen clipboards hung on the wall behind him, each containing a different list with titles at the top such as “Hyperspace Jumps in the Galactic Center” and “Rerouting Protocols - Mid Rim”. There was a series of matching binders lining a built-in shelf below the clipboards. She was fairly certain there was some kind of color coded system in place, as the red tape that lined the outside of the “Rerouting Protocols - Mid Rim” clipboard seemed to be the same red tape that marked the spine of a binder that was labeled “Mid Rim Jumps 001-299”.

After staring, slack-jawed, at the immaculate condition of the place, her eyes finally landed on the copilot’s seat. “Your copilot’s a droid?” she asked, eyeing the robot - an RX-series, if memory served.

“Haven’t found the right sentient for the job yet,” he explained, “Droids are easy. They don’t require food or sleep or trust.”

She couldn’t argue with that.

He was hunched over an open binder, typing something into the console next to the flight controls and staring at the monitor as it spit information back out at him. She watched for a few minutes as he flipped through the pages in the binder and wrote neat, precise notes on the lined paper inside.

“Aren’t these guys supposed to be pretty talkative?” she asked, indicating the RX.

“I disabled his banter setting,” he explained.

“Is it really called a ‘banter’ setting?”

“No, it’s something obnoxious like ‘human-droid positive relationship protocol forty-two twenty-nine… something, something’’.” He flipped the page in his binder and started drawing lines between plotted points on a graph… then she realized what he was doing.

“You plot your own hyperspace jumps?” she asked, trying not to sound too incredulous. She’d never been much of a pilot, but from what she understood that was pretty advanced, especially for someone his age.

“Looking for new ones, mostly,” he explained as he continued typing into the console, “In this line of work, knowing a jump your pursuer doesn’t can make the difference between life and death.”

“Impressive, kid,” she said offhandedly, stepping forward to get a closer look at the stack of manuals he had neatly lined up on a shelf next to his droid copilot.

“Kid?” he asked, finally looking up from his work to raise an eyebrow at her. “I’ve got to be older than you.”

“You called me ma’am earlier.”

“Sorry,” he said, “I’m not quite sure how to properly address a Jedi.”

“Ava,” she said. “Just Ava.”

“I had a sister named Ava,” he said with a sad smile.

Had? Ugh, she’d managed to step in it without even trying. She was sure she didn’t know him well enough yet to ask him about it - so instead she defaulted to what she was good at - trying to lighten the mood by making a joke.

“That guy out there,” she said, giving a slight nod in Obi-Wan’s direction, “He’s a bit of a stickler for propriety. If I were you, I’d keep calling him ‘sir’.”

He gave a thankful nod, and she wasn’t sure if he’d got the joke or thought she was giving him honest advice, but she figured it’d be funny either way.

She headed back out into the common room to find Obi-Wan still sitting on the bench, staring off into the distance with a blank look on his face. He continued to sit calmly for a long time while she paced back and forth in front of him. She’d never had much patience for travel.

She could feel the discontent rolling off her old friend in waves, more and more the longer they sat in silence.

“What is it?” she asked finally, stopping in front of him to stare him down judgmentally. If he was still upset about her sparring with Lamrick or trying to get off planet last week, he had a long, disgruntled life ahead if him.

“Do you think the Council sent me out on this so they could have time alone with Anakin?” he asked plainly, but his creased brow gave away his worry. She certainly hadn’t expected that question.

“Damn, Ben, I don’t know,” she said seriously. “Maybe. So what if they did?”

He leveled a knowing look at her.

“Ok fine,” she continued, “Which worries you more? That they might not trust you enough to train him, that they don’t trust the boy enough to be trained, or that whatever latent respect they had for my father that had convinced them to agree to the whole situation in the first place has worn off ,and they’re going to ship him back to Tatooine?”

“I hadn’t thought about that,” he said despondently.

“No,” she said, shaking her head and sitting down next to him, “I’m the one that doesn’t trust the Council, not you.”

“I trust them,” he clarified, “I’m just not sure they’re being straight with me.”

“That’s what distrust is.”

He sighed, “I am your father’s apprentice, I guess.”

“I’m surprised more of it didn’t rub off on you,” she agreed. “But you’re not his apprentice anymore, Obi-Wan. You’re a knight, and the Council agreed to that. They placed a lot of trust in you when they let you take the trials early. It might be ok to afford them some of that trust in return.”

He raised his eyebrows and looked at her.

“What?” she asked.

“That was… very wise.”

“Don’t sound _too_ surprised,” she said dryly.

“Not surprised, just… a little proud.”

“Proud? You’ve been my master for about two seconds.”

He smiled and she gave him her best disapproving glare, then stood up and headed toward the hallway she assumed led to the sleeping quarters.

“I’m going to go meditate, because my proud master thinks I need to dwell on my grief in order to heal.”

“Not dwell on it,” he called after her. He’d switched back to a serious tone, so she stopped to look back at him. “Just exist in it for a while. If you let it become part of who you are, it can make you stronger.”

She gave him a small, accepting nod and turned to go, hoping he didn’t sense her real reaction - nervous fear. Letting it become part of who she was would require admitting that it had all actually happened. In time she’d been able to accept her mother’s death, but her father and then Syrna’s had been more difficult. She was used to being dependent on the adults in her life, the ones she trusted, but they’d all been swept away from her. She might not be a knight yet, but she knew she was an adult, or at least becoming one. She was going to have to learn to forge her own path.


	4. Chapter 4

Ava slid on the last of her combat armor, tightening the straps to affix the molded plastoid to her chest. She secured a blaster pistol into a holster on each thigh. She grinned as she practiced taking the guns in and out of the holsters repeatedly, flourishing them and spinning them around by the trigger guards like the gunslingers she’d seen in the vids.

“Cut that out before you shoot someone,” Obi-Wan said, watching her from the corner of his eye as he slid his own chest piece over his head.

She glared. _Such a killjoy._ “The safety’s on.”

She slid the blasters back into the holsters and watched as he reached back awkwardly to try and tighten the straps of his armor over his wide shoulders. She let him struggle for what she felt was the appropriate amount of time for a worthy punishment, then stepped forward to help him. She slapped his hands away, then turned him around to yank the strap tight.

“Uff. Little tight, there, A,” he said through labored breath.

“Sorry.” She loosened the strap some, then started on the other. Obi-Wan craned his neck to look back toward the cockpit where Lamrick had been moments ago, going over his landing checklist. Ava sighed. Yes, _landing checklist_.

“You can keep the ship warm,” Obi-Wan said in Lamrick’s direction. “Have your comms on incase we need an emergency pickup, but we shouldn’t be gone long.”

Lamrick marched up to stand next to them, a set of pristine, dark grey armor strapped to his chest and arms, blaster secured into its holster on his thigh. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at him.

“Sorry, sir,” Lamrick said quickly. Ava suppressed a grin as she saw the muscles tighten in Obi-Wan’s jaw. Lamrick, oblivious, continued on. “I was instructed to accompany you to the ruin. My credentials were leaked to the Fire Syndicate as an interested party in the auction happening in Prolla City later today. I’ll have the clearance to get you past all relevant checkpoints.”

“I didn’t see that in my report,” Obi-Wan said, though the pilot’s reasoning made sense.

“Redacted,” Ava found herself sighing, earning herself a flat look from Obi-Wan.

Lamrick produced a piece of paper labeled with the heading “Confidential, Level 6 Support Eyes Only”. Level six already? They really liked this guy.

"Okay," Obi-Wan agreed as he reviewed it, “Apparently we are Tiro and Tudra Runalian, siblings from the Yost system. We are Mr. Lamrick’s… bodyguards.”

Ava raised an eyebrow. How did they go from being Jedi Master and Padawan to a newbie smuggler’s guard detail?

Obi-Wan didn’t seem phased, but scowled at the paper, holding it out as if it smelled. "Destroy this, please."

"Yes, sir.” Lamrick took the paper then about-faced to march across the room and toss it in the incinerator.

Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose and appeared to be digesting the new strategy. Lamrick returned and waited patiently, hovering just over his shoulder. Eventually, Obi-Wan sighed and gave a dismissive hand wave. “Ok, lead on then, Captain Lamrick.”

“I won’t let you down, sir,” Lamrick said, “I’ve been studying the maps for days—”

Obi-Wan managed to cut him off mid-sentence with a simple, quiet sigh, accompanied by closing both eyes. Lamrick froze, looking down at Ava with wide eyes. She gave him a heartening grin and inclined her head toward the door.

“Sorry, sir,” Lamrick said, then dialed in a code to open the airlock. The door whizzed open and Lamrick lifted his chin high and threw his shoulders back as he marched out ahead of them.

Ava gave Obi-Wan a playful shove on her way out, and opened his eyes slowly and let out a deep breath before following behind her.

The atmosphere of the jungle planet Kaymaha felt akin to wading through a wall of water. Sweat instantly beaded on Ava’s forehead and under the straps of the plastoid armor. She definitely missed the light, airy attire of her everyday Jedi wardrobe.

In addition to the sweltering heat, the lack of agility the armor caused made her crazy - she could hardly lift her arm fully above her head. How normal people functioned with this degree of burden strapped to their appendages, she couldn’t say. If it came down to a fight, shedding the restrictive plating would be her first priority.

Obi-Wan had taken point, leading Lamrick out of the spaceport, through customs, and toward the edge of town as Ava kept guard on his flank. The second their feet hit terra, Obi-Wan’s face had tightened into a surly scowl. Seemingly without effort, he immediately looked every ounce the seasoned-bodyguard.

Ava attempted to imitate his menacing demeanor - shoulders back, chin high, eyes narrowed. But the more half-grins she got from the leering, scraggly gang members and greasy smugglers that lined the seedy streets, the more she realized her youthful features would undo any intimidation points she might have gained from being armored and armed head to toe. She grumbled to herself. If they knew she had a lightsaber strapped under her chest plate, it’d be a different story.

She gave up on the intimidation scheme, opting instead to carefully study the back of Lamrick’s sleek armor as they marched from check point to check point. Lamrick flashed his credentials and offered his eyes up for retinal scan at each stop. They cleared through them with no issues, and soon found themselves outside the city walls and “on their way to Prolla City”. They declined a droid’s automated invitation to rent a personal transport to the city, and Lamrick politely informed it they would “enjoy the fresh air” the walk would provide.

They followed the muddy roads for half an hour until Obi-Wan’s comm beeped, indicating it was time to veer off-course. They headed west into the thick jungle, pushing their way through tangles of thick vines and vibrant green fronds, all dripping with humidity. Birds and other unseen creatures cawed and tittered unseen in the canopy, above.

Ava found a high degree of amusement in Lamrick’s obvious growing distain at the thick splashes of mud that now lined his black boots and grieves. He stopped frequently to try and wipe away the worst of it with a small, square cloth he pulled from his belt, but it only served to smear the filth around more evenly.

Ava was just beginning to think they should give up any pretenses, and brandish their lightsabers to slice their way through the dense foliage, they came upon a clearing. She was glad they had not resorted to taking out the rather distinctive weapons though, when they stepped out of the jungle and saw three armed men. They leaned against a land speeder, positioned directly on the dirt path that led down into a small valley. In the valley sat the ruin they were looking for - a black stone pyramid that stood almost sixty meters tall, overgrown with ages of untended jungle.

Ava exchanged quick glances with Obi-Wan and Lamrick, who appeared annoyed and anxious, respectively, then followed them as they marched toward the path. The gangsters turned incredulous looks onto them as they approached. They wore the layered black leathers of the Fire Syndicate, and each had a dark green swathe of fabric tied around their forehead, soaked through with sweat.

“You folks are lost,” the stout one in the front said gruffly. He turned to the side and spat, then drummed his fingers along the hilt of his blaster. He flashed a toothy, rotten grin at Ava.

“Not lost,” Obi-Wan said evenly. He stopped a few meters in front of the men and Lamrick and Ava fell in beside him. Obi-Wan inclined his head toward Lamrick. “My master wishes to see the sights of your planet.”

“That’s nice. Head to Prolla - more strip clubs per capita than any other Outer Rim planet." The men laughed heartily, showcasing rows of jagged, stained teeth.

To Ava's complete surprise, Lamrick spoke up. His anxiety seemed to have melted away, and he spoke with firm authority. "We came from Prolla - this site was recommended by the travel guides there."

The stout man raised an eyebrow. "Travel guides?"

"Yes. We paid a handsome sum for a self-guided tour of the ruins of this great, ancient planet. This location is recommended first on the list."

Lamrick spoke with steadfast assuredness, and his reasoning sounded quite valid. Ava was inclined to believe it herself.

"Well, it’s not recommended by _us_. Try somewhere else."

Obi-Wan cursed under his breath, barely audible. Ava gave him a sidelong glance. Obi-Wan pushed past Lamrick and came face-to-face with the stout man. His friends adjusted their blasters and shuffled their feet nervously, but didn’t move. Ava’s fingers twitched, ready to have her saber in hand on a moment’s notice. Though their orders had explicitly stated “Do not engage the locals”.

Obi-Wan met the man's sneer with his own for a few long moments, then licked his lips and smiled lightly. Ava rolled her eyes. She knew what was coming. Lamrick seemed concerned and his eyes darted between Obi-Wan and the men.

"We need to gain access to the ruin,” Obi-Wan began, his voice light.

"I know." The man's gaze drifted sideways, then he quickly refocused on Obi-Wan. "You need access to the ruin."

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "You will allow us to pass, unhindered.”

“Yeah, you can pass. That’s fine.”

“We will conduct our business undisturbed.”

“Of course,” the man said. He grinned and patted Obi-Wan on the shoulder roughly. “Undisturbed, like you say, boss. Go on, now.”

The stout man stepped aside and swept his hand out toward the path.

“Thank you.” Obi-Wan inclined his head, then strode past the men to follow the path. The stout man scratched the back of his neck, but said nothing further as Lamrick and Ava shuffled past as well. When they'd descended far enough into the valley to be out of earshot, Ava took a few quick steps to pass Lamrick and fall in next to Obi-Wan.

“Was that really necessary?”

“Sometimes, it’s just easier," he said firmly, eyes locked on the temple ahead. Every time he did that it made her wonder how long it took before the people snapped out of it and realized what they’d done.

Ava could hit a fly with a thrown saber at seventy-five meters, but she’d always been just a little jealous of Obi-Wan's mental abilities, something she'd never excelled at. She'd attempted the trick once, but found it ludicrous and couldn't take herself seriously long enough to accomplish it. Obi-Wan had swept in and took over for her, telling her later she had to believe it herself, or the “subject” never would. Lying apparently came much easier to him than it did to her. She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

“Guys - that was incredible!” Lamrick whispered, looking back toward the guards. She grabbed his arm, turning him away from gaping behind them.

“Pull yourself together, kid,” she insisted.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, and for a second she couldn’t tell if he was being serious or had said it simply to annoy her. He flashed his teeth in a sassy smile.

“Impertinent…” She shook her head in disbelief.

“Children,” Obi-Wan scolded. They quickly descended a set of ancient, overgrown stone steps that led to the foot of the ruin. The black stone pyramid was carved with runes and symbols Ava couldn't begin to decipher - some ancient language lost to the ages. She had no idea how the Council knew a holocron was here.

“You haven’t done that to me, right?” Lamrick asked Obi-Wan in a hushed whisper.

“It only works on the weak-minded,” Ava explained, then added, “So, maybe.”

"Hey!" he said with a scowl.

Ava grinned and continued to follow Obi-Wan as he cautiously approached the entrance to the dark tomb. They pulled the massive stone doorway open and Obi-Wan clicked on the flashlight on the end of his blaster. Ava and Lamrick did the same, and swept their light sacross the musty corridor slowly. Nothing but dust stirred, punctuated by dripping echoes of moisture from deep within.

They searched each room of the ancient crypt methodically, finding nothing but spiders, cobwebs, and splintered old bones. They came to the last room at the end of the hall, where, unlike the others, the door was slightly ajar.

Ava exchanged a cautious glance with Obi-Wan. He nodded once, and she holstered her blaster and stepped toward the door. Obi-Wan and Lamrick raised their weapons and took aim. Ava called upon the Force, and answered, quickly flowing through her and into her muscles, fueling her strength as she shoved the heavy stone door open.

It slid open easily, and Obi-Wan and Lamrick swept their blaster light through the doorway and into every dark corner. It was a long, narrow room lined with a half dozen pedestals along each wall, made of the same carved, dark stone as the walls and floor of the tomb. The pedestals held no objects, likely looted eons ago by grave robbers.

Ava pulled her blaster back out, and followed Obi-Wan and Lamrick inside as they carefully swept behind every pedestal and in every corner of the room. After a few minutes of quiet searching, Obi-Wan sighed heavily and holstered his blaster.

"I don't think it's here," he said. "We'll need to find a way to get to the upper levels, we must have missed an entrance somewhere along the main corridor.

Lamrick nodded and headed back toward the hallway, but as Ava turned to follow, her light glinted off something behind one of the pedestals.

"Wait," she said. She got on her knees and reached into the narrow crevice between the wall and pedestal, grimacing as the thick cobwebs - she hoped only cobwebs - tangled in her fingers. She grasped blindly until she finally felt cold, smooth metal. She pulled it out and Lamrick swung his light onto it.

"It's a holorecorder," Ava said. "Relatively modern."

"No, Ava—" Obi-Wan began, but it was too late, she'd already pressed play. A blue, holographic figure sprung to live above the recorder, distorted and flickering along with the garbled audio.

The audio began to clear before the image. The woman's hushed, nervous tones were apparent despite the heavy distortion of the corrupted message. "The trail seems to end at Hasillis Prime. I returned here in the hopes of finding something we may have miss—"

The audio garbled again and Obi-Wan stepped forward, brow creased uneasily. "Ava, this isn't part of the mission."

"We're here to retrieve a holocron - this could lead us to it."

The message's audio cleared again and the woman's holographic form slowly began to take shape. "—don't have enough information to continue the mission. I'd planned to return to the temple and inform the Council…"

"A Jedi?" Lamrick asked quietly. Ava gave him a small shrug and looked back down at the message.

"…but I'm afraid it may be too late. There's a mole among us, we've known for months. We could not determine who—" The voice became too garbled to understand for a few moments. "—makes sense—…—should have known—…—mission ends here—"

The audio cut out completely, and the blue image flickered, then finally formed a clear visual of the speaker as the end frame paused and prepared to loop the message.

Ava's heart wrenched in her chest. She’d recognize that face anywhere… it was like looking back at herself. It was her mother.


End file.
